The heat had by this time become exceedingly uncomfortable, and we concluded to halt until it should abate a little, at the first convenient and pleasant spot. Leaving the shore, which, besides being unsheltered from the sun, was so rugged with crevices and gullies, and great irregular blocks of coral, as to be almost impassable, we entered the borders of the wood, and took a short cut across the point. Johnny, in imitation of the desert islanders of the story-books, desired to give appropriate names to all the interesting or remarkable localities with which we became acquainted. He had already christened the little island on which we had first landed, “Palm-Islet,” and the spot upon the opposite shore, abounding in brilliant shells, had, from that circumstance, received the impromptu name of “Pearl-shell Beach.” He now proposed to call the point, “Cape Desolation,” from its waste and forbidding aspect; but finally fixed upon “Sea-bird’s Point,” as being more appropriate, the birds having, in fact, taken possession of nearly its entire area, which, judging from the warlike spirit they had displayed, they were likely to hold against all comers. Having crossed the point and reached the lagoon again, we found that the shore resumed its former character. The forest again extended nearly to the beach, but it was more open, and not so thickly wooded as before, and the trees were of a finer growth, and in much greater variety; many of them being of kinds unknown to any of us. We had not proceeded far, after regaining the beach, when we espied just such a resting-place as we were in search of.
Chapter Fourteen.
Castle-Hill.
The Noonday Halt—A Charming Resting-Place—Heathen Skill versus Civilisation and the Story-Books.
“Beneath the tropic rays,
Where not a shadow breaks the boundless blaze,
Earth from her lap perennial verdure pours,
Ambrosial fruits, and amaranthine flowers.”
A little way before us rose a smooth and gentle acclivity, crowned by a clump of majestic trees, which promised to afford a deeper and more grateful shade than any other spot in sight, and we accordingly made towards it. On a nearer approach it proved to be more elevated than had at first appeared, and in order to reach the top, we were obliged to scale a long series of natural terraces, almost as regular as though they had been the work of art. From this spot there was a fine view of the shore, the lagoon, and the ocean, to the north and west. The trees that covered the level space at the summit of the ascent, were varieties of a much larger growth than those generally found on the low alluvial strip of land bordering the lagoon. Conspicuous among them, were the majestic candle-nut, with its white leaves and orange-coloured blossoms; the inocarpus, a kind of tropical chestnut; and most magnificent and imposing of all, a stately tree, resembling the magnolia in its foliage and manner of growth, and thickly covered with large white flowers, edged with a delicate pink. The ground was level as a parlour floor, and free from brushwood or undergrowth of any kind, except a few long-leaved, fragrant ferns, and in places a thick carpet of flowering vines and creepers. The trees were stationed at such distances apart, as to compose a fine open grove, and yet close enough to unite in one rich mass of foliage overhead, impenetrable to the rays of the sun, and creating a sombre and almost gloomy shade, even during the fiercest glare of noonday. In one spot, a number of gigantic trees were grouped nearly in a circle. Their dense tops formed a leafy dome, through which not the smallest patch of sky was visible. Around their huge, but shapely, stems, which one might look upon as forming the pillars of a natural temple, a number of flowering parasites twined in luxuriant wreaths, and hung in festoons from the tower branches. A considerable space around the boles of some of these trees was completely covered by an elegant species of creeping plant with fine cut foliage of a delicate pea-green, and large clusters of scarlet blossoms, about which, swarms of brilliantly-coloured insects, of the butterfly tribe, were hovering.
“Here we may actually, and not figuratively, indulge in the luxury of ‘reposing on the beds of flowers,’” said Max, throwing himself down at the foot of a towering candle-nut, amid a soft mass of this vegetable carpeting. All were sufficiently tired by the long march of the morning, to appreciate the luxury, and our entire company was soon stretched upon the ground, in attitudes in which comfort rather than grace, was consulted.
“What do you think of this, Johnny?” said Max, “it strikes me, as being quite romantic and like the story-books—almost up to the Arabian Nights. If the history of our adventures should ever be written, (and why shouldn’t it be?) here’s material for a flowery passage. Just see how this would sound, for instance:— ‘And now our little band of toil-worn castaways,’ (that’s us), ‘weary and faint with their wanderings through the desert, (that’s Cape Desolation, or Sea-bird’s Point, or whatever Johnny in his wisdom shall conclude to call it), arrived at a little oasis, (this is it), a green spot in the wilderness, blooming like the bowers of Paradise, where stretched at ease, upon beds of bright and odoriferous flowers, they reposed from the fatigues of their journey.’ There, that sentence, I flatter myself is equal in harmony and effect, to the opening one in the history of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia—there’s my idea of the style in which our adventures should be recorded.”